Cathartic Feelings Exposed
by chellethebelle
Summary: Written for the DE Holiday A2A exchange for Layla Reyne. Damon's ready to leave with one last goodbye on his list, to grieve for his friend. Trying to make him stay, Elena realizes she has some of her own grieving to do.


**Hello, all! I hope you had a very merry Christmas (or whatever you celebrate)! **

**This is written for the lovely Layla Reyne, who also beta'ed this. She's a rockstar. **

**Prompt: Elena's worried by Damon's absence on Christmas Eve. With a little help from Jeremy (who has been visited by a certain ghostly guardian), Elena finds Damon at Ric's gravesite. They finally get their moment to grieve together, cathartic feelings are exposed, etc.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Five, now six, calls later and Damon still hadn't answered. And that was just today. Where the hell was he? She hadn't heard from him all week. For those first few days, she'd figured he was just giving her space after all that'd happened. After her fallout with Stefan. Though, Damon had never been one to give space. At least not for this long. It was Christmas Eve for crying out loud. So it begged the question again, where the hell was he?

He was supposed to be at her house two hours ago to help her and Jeremy decorate their Christmas tree. She wanted to make things as normal as possible for Jeremy, to keep with certain traditions. It would be hard enough this year without their parents, with her being a vampire and with Jenna and Ric gone. She knew Damon was also having a hard time with Ric's death, and she'd hoped maybe their celebrating the holiday together, as a family, would be a good way to cheer them all up.

After six calls turned into seven, Elena found herself pounding on the front door of the boarding house and wrapping her coat tighter around her. Yeah, vampires still got cold.

She didn't bother to delve into why Damon's whereabouts mattered so much to her. And why Stefan's didn't. Sure, she was pissed at Stefan right now, but he was her true love. Wasn't he? They'd get past this rough patch, wouldn't they?

But the voice in the back of her mind whispered that if he truly loved her, he wouldn't be trying to fix her. He would love her, for better or worse, through it all. That's what she'd done for him when he was off with Klaus, ripping people into pieces up and down the eastern seaboard.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't hear the steps approaching the door. She didn't snap out of it until the door swung open, revealing a shocked Stefan on the other side.

Just looking at him made her blood boil. His lies were still fresh in her mind. She tried to remind herself that her emotions were heightened, but it only pissed her off more. All she could remember was Stefan's voice, lying to her, begging her to let him fix her so he could love her again.

"Elena," he said softly, obviously surprised to find her on his doorstep and thinking that she'd sought him out. "I'm happy to see you."

"Where's Damon?" she asked, choosing to ignore his words and the sarcastic reply that lay on the tip of her tongue.

He sighed heavily, looking like he was reluctant to answer. "By now, he's probably got 300 miles between himself and us."

"What?" she exclaimed in disbelief. No. No. No! He couldn't leave. Not after everything. She needed him tonight. Did he not understand that? "Why would he do that?"

Disappointment flashed across Stefan's face before he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Damon is only concerned with himself. Obviously there was nothing keeping him here any longer."

His words cut her to the core. Not only because Stefan could say something that cruel. But because she feared they were true. That she was no longer enough to make him want to stay.

She couldn't name the emotion that settled deep in her gut. It weighed heavy like a rock. Or a boulder. Or an elephant.

Despite the fact that she didn't truly need oxygen, she still couldn't breathe and it was making her panic.

Gone? Damon left without so much as a goodbye.

_Would you have let him leave if he had said goodbye?_ Her snide subconscious whispered.

She pushed that thought away before she could mull it over with any sort of seriousness. No. This was Damon being selfish. This was Damon running away.

Yeah. She was sure of it.

Which was why, an hour later, she found herself pacing in her bedroom, having an complete and total breakdown.

It wasn't because she missed Damon.

It wasn't because she didn't know how she'd survive without him.

It wasn't because she felt more for him than she let herself admit.

No. It was none of that.

He left her with no regard for her feelings.

He ran away.

He was being selfish.

Yeah, right. That was why she felt like her whole world was being ripped to shreds. Not because he hurt her. Not because she didn't want him to leave her behind, alone with someone who could no longer accept her.

"Oh, God," she whimpered, sinking to her knees when her legs could no longer hold her upright. Her chest burned with the sobs that were trying to tear their way out of her lungs.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed on the floor like that, but her sobs had long subsided when there was a soft knock on her bedroom door.

"Elena?" Jeremy's voice came through loud and clear courtesy of her enhanced hearing. He pushed open the door and didn't look one bit surprised to find her on the floor with red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

Neither of them said a thing as he helped her up to sit next to him on the edge of her bed.

"Damon's gone," she finally said, breaking the silence.

"I know," he sighed.

He knew? She thought only Stefan knew.

"You do?" she asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.

"I had a chat with Ric," he told her carefully.

Just hearing his name sent a jolt of searing pain through her. It was stronger than it had ever been, and it took her several minutes to wrestle those emotions back into their designated vault. She couldn't mourn for him because that would mean admitting his death was her fault, and she wasn't sure if she could handle that just yet.

"Damon hasn't left yet," Jeremy muttered a bit reluctantly.

"What are you saying, Jer? Do you know where he is?"

Jeremy said nothing.

"Where is he?" she asked slowly, deliberately, trying to tamp down her temper.

He remained silent, but Elena could hear his heartbeat pick up. He knew where Damon was, and he wasn't going to tell her.

"Why won't you tell me?" Her voice took on a desperate edge.

"Look," he sighed heavily, like he was about to admit something he didn't want to. "I get that Damon isn't perfect. I get that he's killed innocent people without so much as a second thought, but I can't help thinking about all those times he's kept you safe. No matter what it cost him. And I get that he'd let someone you care for die, if it meant saving you, but he's also saved those same people. For you."

She'd seen the truth of Jeremy's words in action. She had been there each time Damon saved her, again and again. "I know."

"No, Elena, I don't think you do," he said, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. "You may think that I don't notice these things, but I do. Damon should've torn out of here a long time ago. Do you know why he hasn't?"

"Why?" she asked in a shaky voice. She needed and dreaded the answer, despite the fact that she already knew what it was.

"Because you have given him just enough hope that if he sticks around long enough, he might finally deserve you."

Now it's her turn to sit in silence. Of course this wasn't news to her, but it still hurt like hell hearing it out loud.

Jeremy stood from the bed, looking ready to bolt from her room and their too-deep conversation. "So no, I'm not going to tell you where he is just so you can say or do whatever it takes to make him stay and then go running back to Stefan again. He's been hurt enough. If you aren't sure that you love him, or if you are too afraid to love him, then you need to let him go, Elena."

* * *

He really didn't understand why he hadn't left yet. He had wondered if anyone would try and stop him. God knows his own brother didn't, so why would anyone else? Especially when he hadn't told anyone but Stefan.

But here he was, sitting at his best friend's grave on Christmas Eve, wallowing in self-pity and downing a bottle of his finest bourbon. Nothing said _forever alone_ quite like this pathetic picture.

He scoffed to himself - at himself - for sounding like a bitter teenage girl. So what if he'd been rejected so many times he'd lost count? It was his own damn fault for letting her reel him in, time and time again, like some lost puppy. Sometimes he knew she'd throw her love for Stefan in his face, and other times he honestly thought they'd made some headway. That they'd regained that closeness between them that developed when Stefan was gone. But now that she'd chosen Stefan, it looked as if they'd never get that back.

He was the biggest patsy of all time, and it was time to take his battered ego and get the hell out of Mystic Falls, just like he'd promised Stefan.

_Cop out_. He could hear Ric's voice in his head. He was clearly close to losing it. Who in their right mind spent Christmas Eve alone in a cemetery?

He needed to get out of town and regain some sanity. Get a grip and remind himself that there was more to this eternal life than one doe-eyed brunette.

He stared straight ahead, his eyes never leaving the headstone that should've never existed. At least not yet. If Alaric were still alive, Damon would stay, regardless of all the other bullshit. Never in a million years did he imagine that he'd ever make a friend like that. Or any friend at all.

He sure as hell wasn't going to make another friend again. It hurt too damn much when they were gone. His whole life, all people ever did was leave him. Hurt him. Use him.

He could feel his anger surge and mix with his grief. He hated that his heart was broken. Shattered. He was supposed to be the soulless brother. The evil brother. The brother that couldn't love. That couldn't feel anything.

How he wished he could be that brother right about now. All he did was feel. He felt the hurt, the pain, the loss, the love, the heartbreak, and the anger. It was eating him alive, consuming him, and threatening to leave him a shell of a man. He wished he could turn it off and walk away without a look back.

"You weren't supposed to die. You were supposed to take care of Elena and Jeremy. Your family. Haven't they lost enough? It should have been me!"

The rage in him boiled over. He could feel the glass of the bourbon bottle cracking under his grip. With a howl of rage, he sent it soaring through the air and watched it shatter against the small headstone in the ground. The crash of the glass did nothing to satisfy the storm brewing inside him. It only seemed to fuel it. Add fire to it.

He stared into the winter night, seething with his pain. He welcomed the numbing cold.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," he whispered into the darkness, the fight leaving him in a rush. He collapsed back onto the bench and dropped his head into his hands. He didn't know how much longer he could stay here. This place where he'd lost so much. His mother. Katherine. His humanity. His brother. The only woman he'd ever truly loved. And Alaric. He knew where he was no longer wanted. He could take a hint.

Elena was holding him back. Every time he thought he was done with her, she needed him. Or kissed him. Or died. Or needed help controlling her cravings. And every time he stayed and helped her, was there for her. Any every time, she went running back to Stefan right after the crisis was over. It was a bitch falling into her trap over and over again, but he was helpless against her, incapable of telling those big brown eyes no.

But as usual, he was going to do something for himself. He was going to make the most selfish decision of all.

* * *

Tears were streaming down her face as she witnessed Damon's lament. How could she have been so blind to his pain? How did she not realize how much he was hurting? The anguish she felt over Alaric's death didn't come close to Damon's grief. Maybe because he was actually dealing with it. He wasn't pretending that it didn't happen. That it didn't hurt.

She kept herself hidden in the trees, just watching him. After his whispered words that she strained to hear, he fell back onto the bench with his head in his hands. Her fingers itched to hold him, to comfort him while he mourned the death of his best friend. Her body thrummed with the need to be in his arms, to let him comfort her while she mourned the death of her last parent. Her feet twitched with the need to go to him. To just be near him.

As if on their own, her feet moved forward just a few inches and instantly, Damon's eyes snapped up and met hers across the cemetery. She froze, mid step, and could only stare back. The intensity of his blue eyes wasn't dimmed by the distance or the dark; it only seemed amplifyied.

Her steps were slow, yet steady, as she moved, without thought, closer to him. Wasn't that how she always moved these days? Always in sync with Damon, always knowing where he was, always needing him near. What would she do when he left? Her heart nearly shattered at the thought alone. But keeping him here would mean hurting him even more than she had already. She wasn't sure she could live with that, but how could she live without him.

He'd become her best friend after Stefan left, even before, if she was being honest with herself. He'd promised to never leave her and he'd kept that promise, even when she'd chosen Stefan over him, despite everything Stefan had done to them. She knew he was in pain, but she'd never before seen it so plainly written all over his face.

Tears stung her eyes the closer she got to him. His gaze didn't waver as she neared, and he didn't protest when she lowered herself onto the bench next to him.

They sat in silence, both staring out into the dark. She knew she'd have to break the silence first, but she wasn't ready for what that would bring. She'd never be ready.

She took a deep breath. "I miss him." And then the tears broke loose and she was powerless to stop them.

She caught him gazing at her out of her peripheral vision, but didn't comment.

"Some days," she started again, her voice breaking. "Some days I hate him for leaving Jeremy. For leaving us alone, with no one." She was crying in earnest now, swallowing around the lump in her throat. The thoughts that she had locked up tight in the back of her mind were now a reality. She couldn't take them back. Though she didn't want to. Damon, of all the people, would understand - wouldn't judge her. "Why did he have to leave us like that?"

She sobbed between her gasping breaths as she uttered the words that she had bottled inside for far too long. "If I accept that he is dead, I have to accept that I died too."

She had no right to seek comfort from him, but as his hand covered hers, she reveled in it. In the warmth of his skin on hers. The tears only got worse.

"I just want to get him back," she rasped, gripping his hand like the lifeline it was. "It was never supposed to happen this way."

Silence descended once more, but she didn't let him pull away.

She was the one who had to break the silence again. "Damon-"

"No," he said firmly, interrupting her and ripping his hand from hers. "Elena, don't. Just don't."

She tried again. "But-"

It was no use. He pushed himself up from the bench and roughly ran a hand through his hair. "I know what you're about to say, but I don't want to hear any of it. You can't make me stay when you're the one making me leave."

"Damon." She was close to begging now, desperation obvious in her voice.

"No, don't you get it, Elena?" he seethed, turning his burning blue gaze on her. "I can't do this anymore. I can't want you any more because it's too God-damned painful. So for once, can you not be selfish with me and just let me go?"

His words from that fateful night in her bedroom slapped her in the face. He had done the selfless thing that night and let her go and now he was asking her to do the same.

Could she be as strong as he was?

After reliving that moment during her transition, she hadn't thought again about how hard it must have been for him to let her go not once, not twice, but three times now. She never imagined that he felt like this. This sheer and almost paralyzing pain.

Again, she asked herself, could she be as strong as he was? Could she be the good guy, like him, and let him go? Let him try and be happy?

She wasn't so sure she could. Just the thought of it was twisting her up into knots.

"Damon," she whispered. "I can't."

"What do you want me to say, Elena?" He sounded exhausted, like the weight of the world on his shoulders was finally too much to bear. "That I'll stay. That I'll stand by and watch Stefan lie to you over and over again? Watch you go running back to him the second he sheds a single tear and begs for your forgiveness? You want me to tell you that it's all going to be okay? I never have and I sure as hell am not going to start now."

His words slapped her in the face. She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes.

He didn't give her a chance to respond. "You made your choice and now I'm making mine."

He took a step away and she could practically see her world falling apart as he turned his back to her.

"Wait!" she called desperately, ready to do what ever it took to make him give her a chance. "Do that mind walk thing Sage did to Rebekah. Remember? You're the one who told me all about it."

He froze for so long, she was sure he was going to ignore her, but then he turned slowly, his face contorted with thinly veiled rage. "What?"

She almost smiled because she finally made him pause. She had one chance and she wasn't going to blow it.

"Walk through my thoughts, Damon. My mind is open for you. Do it, please, and if you don't like what you find, I'll let you go and I'll never try to find you. I'll do whatever you need to be happy," she spoke fast, afraid that at any moment, he'd turn and bail before hearing her out.

"You told me that you could do it too, but only with a weaker, younger vampire." She approached him now, taking his hands in hers and placing them on either side of her face.

"Do it," she whispered, challenging and begging him at the same time.

* * *

He wanted to say no. God, he wanted to, but with his hands on her soft, warm skin, and her pleading voice in his ears, it was impossible.

Mind walking was something he hadn't done in years. It took too much energy for something that he didn't even like doing in the first place. Knowing someone's thoughts was too much for him. His own thoughts, at times, were too much for him. It was all just too personal, too emotional, too uncomfortable and usually not worth the effort.

But right here, right now, that was a different story. What more did he have to lose? He'd lost everything to this girl already. What was this one last thing? Maybe it would prove that, once and for all, he could move on from her. Maybe it would give him the closure he needed to get in his car and never return.

So he closed his eyes and stretched his mind into hers. There was no resistance, no wall to break through, only open acceptance.

He saw Stefan. He saw the fear she had when she looked at him after he returned to them. He felt her sense of loyalty toward his brother despite everything. He felt her unwillingness to give up, the sense of duty to heal him like she believed he healed her after her parents died.

Then he saw himself through her human eyes. He saw himself as a monster, as something to fear. But soon the light he was cast in started to change, There was understanding. He saw himself dying, felt her pain as he lay in her arms in his bed during his darkest hour. He saw himself as her protector, her rock, her savior. He felt resistance where her heart wanted to go further, pressing her mind to accept what it already knew. He felt her mind's wall that separated her heart from him.

Then Damon saw it all through her new eyes, her vampire eyes. How Stefan lied to her over and over again. How all he wanted to do was get back the sad, depressed girl he found in that graveyard over a year ago. How he wanted to fix her. Damon felt Elena's heartache as she accepted the fact that Stefan couldn't love her the way she was now.

Damon appeared again, now through her vampire perspective. He could feel her mind resisting what she felt for him, only now it was harder, her heart more insistent. Damon felt the acceptance that she felt when she was around him. When he looked at himself, he felt what she felt, like he was home. He saw the love he had for her radiating from his eyes and felt her being shift as she started to accept it, to welcome it. Damon watched the light around him change again as the walls she built slowly come crumbling down. The floodgates were open and in her mind, there was no going back.

The intensity of her feelings terrified her, made her want to run in the opposite direction. Damon saw himself with her heart in his hands, with all the power in the world to crush it into a million pieces, to crush her. _This was Damon_, her mind echoed around him. _He never left her, not once._

Damon felt it all, loud and clear. She loved him and that scared her more than anything. It scared her that she'd thought Stefan was the love of her life, and she'd never felt anything for Stefan like she felt for him.

Damon's hands dropped as if he'd been burned. He wasn't ready to know this. This changed everything. It threw him for the biggest loop of his life. There had to be more to it. Life had never given him what he wanted; there was no way it was doing that now.

"Damon," she whispered his name with a watery voice, closing her hand around his and holding on like he was her lifeline. Well, he kind of was, if what he just saw was any indication. "Take me with you. I don't care where you go or how long you plan on staying away, just take me with you."

He had no idea what to say to that. This was the exact opposite of the departure he'd figured on.

"What about the cure?" Damon asked. There had to be something. Some reason she needed him to stay. She couldn't love him this much; it wasn't possible. He wasn't the loved brother, the good brother, the chosen one.

"If I can have an eternity with you, I don't want the cure," she said, her voice full of conviction and her eyes full of love. She stepped even closer to him and laid her free hand on his cheek, forcing his eyes to hers. "I love you, Damon. I know it and everyone else knows it, too, except you."

Her words sunk into him, soothed his battered heart, and broke down the last of his walls. He saw the truth through her eyes. If she were hiding something, he would've known. But instead, she laid herself bare to him, completely opening herself up to him so he could understand how she sees him, how she needs him. Her protector, her rock, her savior, and now, the man she loved.

The realization snapped something in him and without hesitation, he crushed her body against his own and pressed his lips to hers. There was no resistance from her, as she met him with equal intensity. His arms wound around her back as her fingers fisted into his hair. He could feel her pouring all of her love for him into her kiss; he could almost taste it.

"Say it again," he whispered against her lips before trailing kisses down her neck.

"I love you," she replied instantly, cupping his face in her hands and bringing his lips back to her own.

He couldn't get enough of her. He needed to feel, to kiss, to love every inch of her, but not here in a cemetery, and certainly not in front of Ric's gravestone. Ric would kill him.

"Did you mean it?" he asked softly, pulling away from her and gazing into her big brown eyes. His hands had minds of their own, because they couldn't stop touching her, trailing up her sides, coasting down her spine, or sweeping across her cheeks.

"I meant every word."

"No, that you'd leave with me," he clarified.

"As long as we can come back and see Jeremy from time to time, I'd go anywhere with you," she answered, placing her hands on his jaw and gazing up at him lovingly.

For the first time in a very long time, he smiled – a real honest-to-goodness smile. He couldn't help but press a sweet kiss to her lips. And another.

"So," Elena said softly, her body pressed against his and her fingers scratching across his scalp. "Where to first?"

"Hmm," he wondered aloud, while his hands trailed down her spine to cup her ass in his hands. "How about a bed?"

A mischievous smile tugged at her lips as she pressed into him. "I was thinking your Camaro. I don't think we'll be able to wait until we find a bed."

Oh, God. His whole body rose to attention at her breathy and suggestive words. This woman was made for him.

She lifted onto her toes and pressed her cheek against his own to whisper into his ear, "Merry Christmas, Damon."

* * *

**Thank you all for reading! **

**Your reviews would mean the world. **


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